


i'm having a hard time (i'm making you do the hard time too)

by Sylv



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylv/pseuds/Sylv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yes, mother?"</p><p>"Don't even think about it." She must have gotten her ability to bat her eyelashes and speak sweetly from the high princess, because Snow’s expression is serene and composed even as her words are sharp with warning.</p><p>"I have no idea what you're talking about."</p><p>[Princess Emma is widely known for being beautiful and intelligent and remarkably good at getting what she wants. When a young lieutenant visits the castle, she decides she wants him.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm having a hard time (i'm making you do the hard time too)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Captain Swan AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/44206) by captainswans. 



She is playing with her fork idly while her mother and father stand, giving one of their speeches that everyone is always so wrapped up in (because the two of them really do have a way with words). Emma is not in the mood to listen to inspiring monologues tonight however, not when it means she has to waste an entire evening at a ceremonial welcome feast.

The guests of honor are seated to her father’s left, after Regina, who occupies the chair closest to him. She had caught a brief glimpse of them when they came in, but was a little too preoccupied arguing with her mother about her supposedly mandatory attendance to get a good look at them.

“Emma,” Snow says with patience that Emma knows she doesn’t deserve, and makes a small motion with her hand. Emma realizes she is supposed to be standing right now and rises quickly. The next bit is ingrained into her muscles, so she turns to the guests down the table and curtsies, spreading her skirts wide as she does.

When she glances up, she meets startlingly blue eyes and falters in straightening herself. The young man inclines his head at her with a smile, as does the man sitting next to him. She and her parents return to their seats and the first course is brought out through the huge doors behind the high table. Emma tilts her head and arches around her family to try and catch the man’s eyes again.

He is wearing a pressed uniform, tucked shirt and sports a military standard haircut, and Emma has instant visions of wrinkling his clothes, of corrupting this straight-laced man to the very core. Just the idea of it thrills her.

The soup is being set down in front of them when Snow growls and Emma nearly jumps out of her skin. She had almost forgotten her mother was there, and can feel the blush rise to her cheeks even as she attempts to put on her most innocent smile.

“Yes, mother?”

“Don’t even think about it.” She must have gotten her ability to bat her eyelashes and speak sweetly from the high princess, because Snow’s expression is serene and composed even as her words are sharp with warning.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Emma takes a delicate spoonful of the soup and glances to her left, watching the man’s arms move under his uniform as he leans forward to converse with her father. She uses her other hand to flip her curls over her far shoulder and purses her lips to blow on the soup.

Snow sighs in exasperation and turns to face Emma fully. “Neither of these men would be a good idea Emma, and you know so.”

“I only want to talk to him, just while he’s in the palace.” Emma’s eyes are wide, but Snow has always been less susceptible to that than David, and the expression does not convince her mother in the slightest.

“It wouldn’t be the first honored guest visit that you have made uncomfortable for all those involved.”

Emma drops the act in favor of a self-satsfied grin. “I’m sorry, it’s just too easy.”

Snow turns back to her meal and takes a sip of wine from the ornate goblet in front of her. “I think you would find these two much more of a challenge.”

Emma raises her eyebrows and doesn’t even bother trying to hide the way she stares at the men down the table. This time, her mother follows suit, and when one of them looks up Emma can tell from the way he pales that they are giving him identical grins with just a hint of teeth.

“I think I can handle it.”

The high princess shrugs her shoulders carefully. “Maybe. Or maybe this time someone will get the better of you.”

Emma laughs. “You’ve tempted me, and now I must rise to the challenge.”

Snow sighs in defeat, although Emma thinks she might see a hint of pride underneath the motherly concern. Not that she would ever admit it, of course; there are certain appearances she has to uphold. “Keep it under control this time then, if you please? We don’t need a repeat of the Neal fiasco.”

Emma interlaces her fingers with her mother’s, positively beaming while she squeezes her hand. “I promise.”

;;

She wouldn’t normally be looking forward to the ball after the feast, but the chance to talk to and dance with the man in uniform with the incredible blue eyes has her itching for the food to be cleared away and her father to announce it is time to move into the ballroom.

Regina and Snow escort the guests by the arm, keeping up casual conversation (as much as Regina does casual conversation anyway—but the one that Emma has her eye on seems morbidly fascinated by what she has to say). Emma grips David’s arm so tightly that he winces and leans down to whisper into her ear.

“What has you so excited tonight?”

Emma tries to rein herself in somewhat, but she can see the entrance to the ballroom when they turn a corner and can’t help the huge grin that spreads across her face. “I can’t wait to have a moment to speak to our guests privately. They look like they have some stories they could tell.”

She feels him stiffen next to her, and inwardly curses at his ability to read her. While her mother might scold and offer words of caution and advice, but be reluctantly proud of her daughter’s determination and tenacity, David is more likely to turn the entirety of his disapproval on the object of her affections.

“Dad—“ she starts, but is interrupted by the band that begins playing as soon as they set foot in the ballroom. David abruptly spins her out and then back in to his body, and the motion startles a giggle from her.

For the first dance she waltzes around the room in the arms of her father, only partially distracted by the guests leading Regina and Snow around after them. For the second dance, the men have to switch partners, but Emma is allowed to wander off and find her friends, who have predictably gathered around the table of drinks. They hand her one and lean in conspiratorially.

“Gorgeous!” Ariel exclaims, openly staring. “His eyes are so _blue_.”

The four of them let out a collective groan and sneak peeks at him where he is twirling Snow, who has sincere and open enjoyment shining on her face.

“I like the other one too,” Belle admits, nodding her head toward the taller man.

Ariel elbows her at that. “Yes, but you always have liked older men, haven’t you?” Belle blushes furiously, but doesn’t deny it.

Ruby’s tongue flicks out over her lips, expression downright predatory. “The things that I could do to that boy… he does look good in that uniform of his, but I bet he’d look better out of it.”

Emma sips her champagne and smiles. “I don’t think so. This one is mine.”

Ruby doesn’t look upset in the slightest, just winks. “Your castle, your call. I want all the details afterwards, though.”

“You really think that you’ll be able to get him?” Belle bites her bottom lip. “Soldiers have strict moral codes that don’t let them go around having affairs with anyone. Besides, you’re his princess—I’m sure he could get into a lot of trouble if anything happened.”

“That is the second time someone has baited me about him tonight,” Emma shakes her head. “You know that there is no better way to make something my personal mission.” Her friends laugh at that, just as the song ends. Emma’s eyes flash over to him, where he is gracefully bowing out from his mother’s arms and walking off the main floor.

She follows him immediately, urged on by the snickers of the girls behind her. He retreats to a window, staring out at the view of the town and the sea beyond from where the castle is perched on top of a high hill. He seems to sense her presence, because he turns sharply on his heel and before she can say anything to him.

“Princess Emma,” he dips into a bow, but doesn’t take those piercing blues eyes off of hers for a moment. “Lieutenant Killian Jones at your service.”

Emma doesn’t bother curtsying; she has a drink in her hand anyway, and wouldn’t be able to properly execute the move without the use of both of her hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you personally, sir.”

Killian’s gaze drags over her body, and Emma mentally thanks her mother for the green dress she forced her into, knowing exactly what it does to bring out the color of her eyes. “Your family certainly does know how to make a man feel welcome.”

She smiles at him. “Of course. You should let us know if there is anything else that we can do to make your stay even more comfortable.”

Killian looks taken aback for a moment before his entire demeanor shifts. He leans forward a bit and smirks, something that looks absolutely delectable on his lips. “I will be sure to let you know if I think of anything, princess.”

Emma feels a delicious thrill shoot through her, and twirls one of her curls around her finger while she takes a delicate sip of her drink, assessing how she should continue. Before she can say anything, Killian leans back against the wall by the window and looks pointedly at the glass in her hand.

“Why haven’t you brought me something to drink as well? That isn’t very hospitable.”

Emma is caught off guard, glancing between him and her champange. “I thought soldiers weren’t allowed to drink.”

She gets the distinct impression that if she were anyone else, he would be rolling his eyes at her. “I’m in the navy, not the army love. Once we’re ashore, we are free to do as we please. Even officers—even our captains,” he nods in the direction of the other man in his company.

“Ah, well, in that case…” she lifts her glass up to him and he takes it without hesitation, gulping generously. Emma’s eyebrows are raised when he finishes and hands it back to her. “Thirsty?”

He licks his lips and grins. “I find royal functions to be rather more enjoyable with a bit of cushion.”

“I wish I had that luxury.”

“From what I’ve heard of you, you don’t pay much attention to what is expected.”

“Oh? And what exactly have you heard about me?”

She glides into his space as she questions him, heels bringing them of an even height, and purposefully looks at him from underneath her eyelashes. They aren’t too close, nothing that would be inappropraite, but he stiffens at her proximity, a stark contrast to the way he leans in.

“You have quite the reputation, darling. They say that you are beautiful,” his gaze slides over her hair and the curve of her neck, “that you are intelligent,” he lingers at the dip of her waist, “and that you are remarkably good at getting what you want.”

He pulls back suddenly, and Emma realizes that she had been almost drawn into him while he spoke, the timbre of his voice lulling her into something of a trance. She hurriedly takes a sip of her drink and considers him while she does so. His smirk is cocky now, arrogance seeping from his pores, and if it didn’t frustrate her she would be thoroughly impressed.

They are so busy refusing to back down from each other that they miss the footsteps until the man is right on top of them. Killian starts when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, and Emma nearly drops her glass of champagne.

“Lieutenant,” says a deep voice, gruff in a way that perfectly matches the stubble on his jaw. He turns with a jovial smile toward Emma, but it doesn’t help the feeling of being a child caught stealing sweets. “And Princess Emma.”

Killian gestures between them. “Princess, this is Captain Liam Jones.”

“And this one’s older brother,” Liam says, clapping the hand on Killian’s shoulder hard, causing him to stumble forward. “Which means that it is completely within my rights to drag him off to bed now, since there are duties to be attended to early in the morning.”

Emma watches them exchange a look, and Killian withdraws afterwards, keeping his gaze down and away from her as Liam cheerfully adds, “Your parents have already given us leave to go, although we’re sorry to be retiring so early. We will see you tomorrow, your highness.”

After they leave Emma finishes off her glass and finds her mother humming along to the band and watching her subjects dance from a corner.

“You were right,” she tells her, slipping her arm through the crook of her elbow.

“Giving up then?” Snow asks, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Emma’s ear.

She snorts. “Not a chance, mother.”

;;

Emma has always had a terrible habit of looking a gift horse in the mouth, ever since she was a little girl. This particular morning however, she wakes up to the sounds of metal clashing on metal, and when she rushes to her open window to look, thanks any gods that are listening for placing the practice yard almost directly underneath her room.

By the time she dresses and hurries out into the midmorning sunlight, Liam and Killian have drawn David into their sparring match; the three of them whirl and spin on the balls of their feet, shirtless, harsh breaths and grunts the only other sound ringing through the air.

Emma leans on the wooden fence to appreciate the sight. Killian is lean, not as built as her father or Liam, but he has muscles that ripple under his skin in a way that is not at all unpleasant to look at. They must have been out here for a while, because he has worked up a nice sheen of sweat on his body, one that drags Emma’s thoughts to a place that is definitely indecent.

She hops up and sits on top of the fence, leaning with her elbows on her knees and waves when David notices her, after the three men have tired each other out. He comes over, drinking out of his canteen, and kisses her cheek between panting breaths.

“Good morning, Emma,” he says, eyes crinkled around the corners in a way that means he is having a good time. Emma is relieved, considering he could have decided to hate Killian and Liam for the possibility of Emma being interested in either one of them.

“Morning Dad!” she chirps, tying back her hair as she does.

Liam and Killian make their way over as well, Killian’s eyes sweeping over her body almost too quickly to catch. The dress from last night was far more revealing, showing her shoulders and dipping down toward her breasts, clinging tightly to her curves, but Emma feels more exposed now, in her simple shirt and breeches.

“How can we help the princess this morning?” Liam asks, snatching his own water canteen from Killian’s fingers and taking a hearty swig from it.

“She was wondering if she could spar with you,” Emma responds, not taking her eyes off of Killian. He cocks his head to the side and studies her, fingers tapping a gentle rhythm on the gilded hilt of his sword. She unconsciously brings her right hand down to the sword belted at her waist.

Liam’s eyebrows make a valiant effort to meet his hairline and he glances over at David before saying anything, seemingly unsure of how to continue. Killian offers nothing, simply keeps staring like he can see right down to the marrow in her bones.

David laughs. “Why not?” He shrugs. “It would be good for Emma to practice with someone who isn’t me, her mother, or the same men at arms. Especially with men who know their way around a sword as your two do,” he inclines his head in respect, and they return the gesture, Killian’s eyes finally flicking away from Emma.

“Are you sure…” Liam looks somewhat uncomfortable with the notion. “She’s small, we wouldn’t want to hurt her.”

Emma is indignant. “I think you’re the one who would have to worry about getting hurt,” she snaps, jumping down onto the packed dirt of the yard.

“Manners,” David chides gently, a smile quirking at the corners of his lips. Emma stares at the ground and mumbles out an apology, looking up in surprise when Liam laughs, head thrown back, shoulders shaking.

“Well, why not?” he asks, and it is then that Emma decides she likes him, despite the fact that he skirts the line of appropriate ways to speak to royalty. Or perhaps because of it. “Let’s put the princess up against my little brother and see how well he does.”

The captain leans back against the fence next to David, who immediately ducks his head in toward him. The two start whispering like old buddies, but Emma can’t focus on anything except the lieutenant in front of her rolling his shoulders to loosen up the muscles there.

“Go easy on me,” Emma’s voice drips with honey when she draws her sword from its sheath. “I don’t have the experience that you do.”

Maybe she imagines it, but she thinks she sees his eyes become hooded at her words, a pink tongue darting out to wet his lips while he shifts into a guarded stance. “I’m sure you have plenty of experience, princess.”

She grins and mimics his movement, so that they are both in starting positions. “Perhaps, but I’d still like you to teach me more one day, when you have the time, lieutenant.”

Emma doesn’t give him a chance to respond, lunging forward instead and slashing at his midsection. Killian dances easily away from her blade and around her; a move that would leave her with her back to him if her father hadn’t prepared her for exactly that trick. She spins on her feet as he does, and comes around to face him again, heart rate already accelerating.

There is nothing composed or calculated in Killian’s face now. He openly nods his approval at her, but his expression is still dangerous, and Emma relishes in this, in the idea of this—someone not holding back with her, someone that she can really test her skill against. Her parents love her too much to be anything more than delicate with her, and the men at arms think of her too much as their princess, some of them having known her since she was born.

Killian seems to have no such qualms, and does not wait for her to attack this time, sliding in and working a half moon up toward her neck. Emma brings her sword up to block the move in time, but has to use two hands to pretevent the weapon being knocked out of her grip. The vibrations snake down her forearms and into her shoulders, making her teeth rattle in her head. Killian doesn’t pause, following the move through down the other side of her body, and Emma has to react by sliding her blade along his from hilt to tip, throwing off the direction of his swing.

Emma ducks low and tries to use his higher center of gravity to sweep his legs out from underneath him, but it opens up her left side to an attack, and she ends up having to roll to avoid his cut. The metal sings as it passes her, just a hair’s breadth away, and she thinks she might actually be able to feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins. Emma slices at his thighs while still on her knees, using her free hand to brush the sweat off her forehead before it drips into her eyes.

He deflects her blade easily, but his side step brings his right knee within reach and Emma swiftly punches the joint, sword all but forgotten in her right hand. Killian buckles and comes crashing to he ground, landing on the hurt knee as he does. She sees him wince, but when he looks up there is fire in his eyes, and she can’t react before he is grabbing one of her legs and tugging, throwing her onto her back and knocking the wind from her lungs. In a twisting motion that only takes a moment, her blade is skittering away across the practice yard and Killian is straddling her, pinning her thighs together with his knees, one forearm holding her shoulders down and his sword at her throat.

Their breaths are coming in rough heaves, bodies strung tight. His face is close enough that if she wanted to, she could lean up and press their lips together. Emma savors the feeling of their bodies where they are touching, knows exactly how much space is between their hips without looking.

“Using one’s fists in a sword fight. Bad form, Emma,” he hisses, but there is dark delight dancing behind those blue eyes of his, and she smirks right back at him.

“When you’re at a disadvantage, there isn’t much incentive to play fair, is there?”

“Alright, alright!” Another voice breaks in, and then Killian is being hauled up off of her. Emma blinks in the sudden sunlight that assaults her eyes, and blindly lets the hand that grasps hers pull her to her feet.

“Well done,” David praises, even as he checks her over for signs of injury. “Although I never taught you that trick with the knee.”

“No,” Emma smiles impishly at him. “That one was Mom’s.”

“Ah,” he chuckles. “That would be one of hers, wouldn’t it? I’m proud of you, Emma, you fought well.” He pulls her in for a quick hug, despite the sweat drying on both of their bodies.

“Thanks Dad.”

They turn to the two guests who are currently clapping each other on the back. “Your princess here has a lot of potential, Your Highness,” Liam says, audibly impressed. Emma stands a little taller at the praise. “Almost got the better of Killian, who should have been able to end that in under a minute.” He gives his brother a half-hearted glare, and Emma can see the blush staining Killian’s cheeks.

David smiles. “I don’t like to brag, but she does have some of the best teachers that we can offer.” He winks down at her, and she shoves him lightly in the side, rolling her eyes. “Although if I may say so, it looked to me as though your lieutenant was holding back a bit.”

Killian’s blush spreads to his ears. “Next time I won’t, Your Highness.”

Emma stalks past him and brushes her fingers against his hip as she does, purposefully keeping her eyes averted from him. “I’ll hold you to that, sir.”

;;

After sitting through royal court in the afternoon and consciously forcing herself to pay attention, Emma feels exhaustion in a way that nothing else can elicit from her. Her head pounds from the pleas upon pleas that people came to her parents with, and she can’t help but admire the way they held themselves and treated each new subject with respect and consideration.

With a sigh she slips off her shoes and holds them by the ankle straps, padding along the deserted hallways to the library.

The huge wooden doors creak when she opens them, but the enormous room is still and silent when she enters. Emma relaxes minutely in the deserted space, the warmth of the dark wood and friendly pages of books reaching out to her. The setting sun spreads colors of red and purple across the carpet, and Emma glides along toward the back of the library, the section that contains children’s books and, more importantly, a huge, plush window seat.

She is quiet enough without her shoes on that she rounds the corner and spots him without him looking up from his book. Emma would have thought the rustling of her dress might give her away, but there is a crease between his brows that means concentration and as she watches he lifts one of his hands to scratch behind his ear before turning the page.

“Lieutenant,” she hums, approaching him, and is pleasantly surprised by how sultry her voice sounds to her own ears.

Killian’s eyes dart up, land on her, make a quick back and forth around her, and then sweep back to her face. She sidles up to him and brushes her covered breasts over his forearm on the pretense of leaning over to see what he is reading. His breath shifts her curls around her face, and Emma finds that she can’t concentrate on the words whatsoever.

“I didn’t mean to go wandering around the castle by myself, Princess,” Killian says, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf next to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma dismisses the apology with a wave of her hand. “You’re our honored guest here for as long and you and your brother want to stay; you’re welcome in any part of the castle. Besides,” she makes a split second decision and presses herself up against his front fully, from chest to thigh. “I quite like the idea that I’ll find you in my favorite parts of the palace, alone.”

She can sense the hesitation in his hands when they bend at the elbows and reach up, but he wraps those long fingers around her upper arms, and Emma feels a flush of victory, dropping her shoes to the floor next to them.

His heart is pounding in his chest, she can feel it even through the layers of their clothes, and there is heat simmering behind his features that he has schooled into careful neutrality. Emma can’t help it when her eyes slide from his to the angle of his jaw, the shape of his lips, which are so much redder than she expected them to be. She wants to taste that redness.

“Emma,” he groans, and he sounds absolutely _wrecked_ , and they haven’t even done anything yet. She can’t imagine what he will sound like once he is hovering over her, clothes off, every inch of his skin kissed, lips bruised, but she knows that she wants to find out.

And then he pushes her away with the most incredible reluctance that Emma thinks she has ever witnessed. Her body resists, but she allows him to put some space between them, just as she allows disappointment to wash over her, and a small pout to grace her lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Killian growls, hanging his head so that his chin brushes his chest and sucks in a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth.

Emma can’t help the quirk of her lips that becomes a smile, and she steps forward once more, drawing a slim finger down the seam of his jacket, leaving it hovering over the pulse point in his wrist. “I’m not looking at you in any way that is out of the usual.”

“Aye, but the way you usually look at me is like to make a man lose his sense.” Even as the words leave his mouth, his hand comes up and gingerly touches the hair hanging over her ear. Emma’s eyes flutter shut; when his knuckles make contact with her cheek it is electric, and she leans her face into him, turning to kiss the skin that she can reach.

A strong arm wraps around her waist and draws her into his broad chest. Emma’s eyes fly open in time to watch his free hand go to cup the back of her head and see him bury his nose in her hair.

“You’re a bloody vixen.”

He skims his nose along her neck and up to her ear, squeezing her as tightly against his body as he can and tilting her head back so that he can see more of her, feel more of her because his lips are hovering, she can feel his hot breath just above her skin and all he has to do is lean down to touch her.

Killian pauses and his shoulders slump forward. “Trying to tempt a man of honor, Emma. I’d guess men aren’t ordinarily long in resisting you.”

He pulls back, leaning his head against the shelves behind him, eyes firmly closed. Even though their bodies are still against each other, Emma can feel his resolve strengthening. She shrugs out of his hold, and he lets her go, still keeping his eyes shut.

“A man of honor, hm?” Emma bends down to pick up her shoes, and hopes that he is watching her as she moves. “Then let us assume for a moment, that you weren’t a man of honor.”

Killian squints at her, a crooked grin on his face, hands running back through his hair. “Impossible, love.”

She laughs. “Alright then, let’s assume that I were someone else.”

He considers, crossing his arms over his chest, and Emma’s attention is drawn to the muscles there. “You’re asking me what I would do if you weren’t a princess, but a beautiful girl down at the docks, maybe a fisherman’s daughter, with exquisite green eyes and a laugh you could get lost in?”

“Yes,” Emma breathes, frozen in her spot.

“What would any man do with a woman like that? Cherish her; take her on a tour around my ship and promise to show her the world when she is ready to leave her hometown. I would say things I never expected I would say, talk of love and family and settling down.”

Killian stalks toward her, and it is the second time in less than twenty-four hours that Emma feels like her game has been turned on its head, but she can’t find it in herself to complain when he is looking at her like he wants to devour her. His words are innocent until he gets close enough that he can hold her jaw and force her head up to make eye contact with him.

“I would take her to bed and absolutely ravish her; until she can’t remember anything but the feel of me and her, until the pleasure overwhelms her and she screams my name. I would ensure that she would never forget me, and I would brand myself under her skin, right on her very bones, so that no one else could ever hope to compare.”

His fingers squeeze her jaw gently, and then he lets go, straightening out his uniform and flicking imaginary dust from his shoulders. “But as things are, I leave you to your library, princess.”

Emma watches him leave, a definite sway and swagger to his walk. She runs her tongue over her teeth and calls after him, “I’ll see you tomorrow, lieutenant.”

Killian very nearly misses a step, but he doesn’t look back at her, just hurries his pace and disappears around a corner. Emma does a small twirl, shivering when his words echo in her head. They had the effect she was sure he wanted them to; she had been completely struck by him in the moment, the high ceilings and peeling paint titles of books fading out until there was nothing but him and the promise in his words.

And he would have her believe she’s the one being a tease? Emma can’t help but laugh out loud.

She will certainly have good dreams tonight.

;;

In the morning, Emma spends an especially long time getting ready with her maids. The day is beautiful, blue sky without a cloud to be seen, and she knows exactly how she is going to be spending her time. Emma settles on a low cut dress that won’t be questioned on a day like this; the heat is sure to be sweltering when the sun is at its zenith. She debates piling her hair up on her head or leaving it down around her shoulders, agonizes over whether she should powder her face or not, and gets into a very serious debate with one of the women over which pair of shoes she should wear.

When she finally deems herself ready it is just before noon, and Emma knows precisely where she will find Killian.

Her parents and their guests are just finishing up their midmorning meal when Emma strides into the dining hall with purpose. Snow narrows her eyes when she takes in the outfit, and David looks positively stricken, but Emma pays them no mind, curtsying prettily before smiling at Killian and his brother.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to take you on a tour of the grounds this afternoon, gentlemen. We have beautiful gardens that you should see before your stay here is done.”

Killian glances at Liam without saying anything, but the captain looks fairly pleased by her offer. “It would be an honor. However, I do have some things I must attend to with your royal parents before my ship can take leave, and we have set aside this afternoon.” He eyes Killian. “I would suspect that the lieutenant here would be amenable to this.”

“I might be,” Killian says around what sounds like a fairly dry mouth.

Emma flashes them both her sunniest smile, studiously ignoring the glares of Snow and David that are burning holes into her side. “Come with me please, Lieutenant Killian. We can start with the rose gardens, if you’d like.”

“Whatever Your Majesty wishes,” he mutters, standing up to follow her when Liam snags his arm.

“A word first, please.”

Emma dithers by the open double doors in the hallway, concentrating very hard on not eavesdropping on the men’s conversation. It is a short one, and she doesn’t have to wait long at all before Killian is at her side, a tightness to his features that Emma hasn’t seen before.

She shakes her head firmly and holds out her arm so he can escort her. “Do you like gardens, lieutenant? Ours are the largest and most beautiful this side of the sea, people tell me.”

He sends her a half-hearted grin, and Emma doesn’t like that one bit.

The silence between them is uncomfortable, so Emma is relieved when they step outside and she has to start pointing out plants and explaining horticulture to him. She quickly realizes that this is a subject she knows more about than he, and latches onto that fact, bombarding him with everything she can remember about this plant, that flower, the blooming pattern of this particular weed and how that affects the gardening in this section of the grounds.

Soon enough she has him drawn in, sticking his nose into the roses and telling her if he can smell a difference between the red ones and the white ones, gracing her with stories from his childhood about the flowers that he used to pick with Liam every year for his mother’s birthday, letting her quiz him to see if he has retained any of the stream of facts she has been spewing in his direction.

“And this…” Emma makes a grand sweeping gesture with her arms. “Is our meadow of wildflowers.”

She watches his eyes widen at he takes in the sight. Colors abound, grass growing wildly every which way, trees having been allowed to take root and grow in the middle of patches of plants. Emma grabs his hand and pulls him forward, stepping carefully, having to occasionally tug to pull her dress free from the thorns that claw at it.

Killian follows willingly, interlacing their fingers. Emma makes a beeline for her favorite spot in all of the gardens, which is underneath a large, sprawling oak tree.

She falls into a sitting position and drags him down with her. He spends an awkward moment trying to find a place to sit that isn’t on top of the many layers of her dress, and eventually gives up, laying out across her skirts. Emma remains seated upright, but follows his gaze up to the sky peeking out between the swaying leaves overhead.

“This is my favorite place to be,” Emma admits to him, falling back so that they are lying parallel, shoulders and arms touching.

“It’s beautiful,” Killian says on an exhale.

She can’t resist teasing him. “More beautiful than me?”

“No.” When she looks at him his face is honest, open, and he is gazing directly at her. “That would be fairly difficult, love.”

Killian’s eyes are so blue, and he looks so young and earnest; Emma takes a chance, closes her eyes, and leans in to press a sweet kiss against his lips.

They’re chapped from rough winds at sea, but warm, and Emma feels herself sigh into him. He responds immediately, the distance from earlier completely dissipated, and maps out her lips with his own, one of his hands going to tangle in her hair.

Her last thought is _finally_ before she isn’t thinking at all anymore because Killian has braced himself on his left arm and rolled them over to hover above her. Emma arches her back and brings her arms up so she can pull him down by the back of his neck, licking quickly at his lips.

He groans and opens up for her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and exploring. She kisses him back just as fiercely, memorizing the taste of him, the way he runs his fingers along her scalp and uses his other hand to dance along the stitching of her dress.

They break apart to suck in air but scramble to come together again, Emma pulling him to her so hard that he falls onto her chest. Breathless laughter mingles between them, and then he is kissing her neck, open mouthed and hot and sloppy and Emma is burning up more from this than the summer day could ever hope to achieve. Killian palms her breast through her bodice, fingers plucking at her nipple and she moans.

The sound seems to bring him back to himself, because there is suddenly a lot of cool air where his warm, heavy body used to be. Emma follows him without thinking, like he has a gravitational pull, but he is standing and adjusting his clothes before she can come to her senses.

Her eyes inevitably trail down to the significant bulge at the front of his pants. Killian sees her looking but doesn’t bother trying to cover up or hide from her, just runs his hands through his loose hair and grits his teeth. Emma goes to stand, but he holds a hand out to stop her.

“Don’t. Stay there.”

“Things were just starting to go well,” she purrs, and counts it as a win when his eyes follow the motion of her tongue across her bottom lip.

Killian shakes his head at her. “Only from where you are standing, princess.”

He leaves her sitting in the grass, hair mussed, lips pink and swollen, to walk back to the palace on her own.

;;

Emma spends the rest of the day mulling over her options. She is honestly surprised by the amount of effort she has to put into this; she can’t remember if there has ever been a time when more than twenty-four hours passed without her coaxing the current man in her sights into bed, and it is irritating her.

David comments on it at dinner while she pokes at her food. Snow seems distantly amused by the entire affair, and Killian doesn’t look at her the entire time they are at the table, even when she passes him the basket of fresh rolls. Thankfully they aren’t sitting next to each other, because the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

Ruby finds her out on the balcony that evening, sitting on a blanket and studying the stars appearing above her instead of practicing her needlework like she should be doing.

“I was told I’d find you sulking out here.”

Emma frowns and jabs the needle into the center of the hoop resentfully. “I’m not sulking.”

“No, you are just enacting revenge on that thread for betraying you in a past life.”

Ruby sits next to her gracefully, and Emma leans her head onto her shoulder without thinking about it. Ruby gives her a quick hug.

“Soldier still not crawling into your bed?”

“He’s in the navy, not the army,” Emma quips, and Ruby laughs.

“I thought that you liked a challenge?”

“I do! He’s just…”

There’s a short pause. “Too challenging?”

Emma bristles at that. “No. I can do it. He’s just being stubborn, but it isn’t that he’s not interested. There were some nice kisses exchanged out in the gardens this afternoon.”

Ruby claps her hands together in delight. “Fantastic! You’re halfway in the door; you’ve created a solid base to push off of. It will be much easier from here on out—you know the drill, you have done this before.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I’m right.”

Emma sits up and shakes her hair out, combing her fingers through it quickly. When she stands, she passes Ruby her stitching. “Now all I have to do is find him.”

Ruby’s smile is knowing when it glints in the light thrown off by the lanterns inside. “I took the liberty of doing that legwork for you. I’ve been told that he was seen entering the library just a little while ago.”

“His new favorite place, it would seem. I will see you tomorrow, Ruby.”

Ruby sends her off with a chipper wave. “You’re welcome, Your Highness.”

Emma heads straight for the window seat in the children’s section when she reaches the library, not bothering to check for him in other places first. She is smug when she sees him there, sitting with his legs crossed underneath him, a thick pad of parchment balanced on one of his thighs.

“I see you’ve taken up residence in my secret spot.”

Killian doesn’t answer, so Emma sits down next to him and watches his hand work for a minute without saying anything. He is precise, fingers dark with charcoal smudges, movements sure and practiced. When she leans over to look, she sees a ship in calm waters, flag snapping in the wind, sails billowing.

Goose bumps rise on her skin, as though she can feel the brisk wind blowing across deck. “That’s really impressive,” she says, fingers twitching with the want to reach out and trace the lines. “Is that your ship?”

“The Jewel of the Realm,” Killian says, finally looking up at her. He is smiling softly, and Emma thinks that she can see the young boy within him who watched the boats float by his house on the seashore and longed to go traveling with them.

“I didn’t know that you could draw,” Emma sits back against the windowpanes and folds her hands in her lap. “From memory too—not many people can do that, you know.”

Killian ducks his head and shrugs. “It’s something I started doing when things became stressful; it’s an escape, of sorts.” He looks as though he weighs his next words carefully before he says them. “What is it that you do to escape, princess?”

Emma opens her mouth, snaps it closed again after a second and stares at him blankly. His expression hints that he knows what her answer is, and Emma doesn’t like it one bit, the feeling that he can see right through her, that he knows what chases in circles around her head and understands it on some level.

She stands abruptly, irrationally angry. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, lieutenant.”

His eyebrows shoot upwards, and he smiles humorlessly. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She might be drowning because it’s hard to breathe and those blue, blue eyes are seeing every inch of her, every dirty little crack and crevice that has ever been evident on her skin, the way she feels she may burst sometimes from the pressure and she can’t be here anymore.

Emma flees.

;;

On the last day of their stay, they take their guests out on a hunting trip in the royal forest. In the morning Regina had used her magic to evaporate elsewhere and avoid even being asked to join, but Emma had no such luxury, and is now sitting astride a horse, pretending to be interested in tracking the buck the dogs have caught wind of.

For the past few days Emma has steered well clear of Lieutenant Jones, and he seemed content to let her keep her distance. Captain Liam seemed as effervescent as ever, although Emma suspects that might have something to do with the fact that he isn’t worrying about his lieutenant and brother being alone with his liege’s princess anymore.

Still, even if she is blatantly avoiding him, that’s no reason to let him get her down. So Emma holds her chin high and focuses on anything but how well he rides his horse, the ease with which he sits in the saddle. She transfers her gaze to Ruby, who sits just as well, and is nowhere near as distracting.

Emma sticks close to Graham, who is the only person that she can stomach at the moment. Her parents have been giving her disapproving looks all morning and silently encouraging her to make conversation with Liam and Killian. Ruby is far too happy and eager to push her toward Killian for entirely different reasons. She has no interest in talking about politics with any of the other lords and ladies who were asked to accompany them, and none of the soldiers in the armed escort are particularly chatty sorts.

Graham has been around almost since she can remember. He and her mother have some sort of backstory involving him saving her life that is always waved off with a “later, later” when she asks about it. In fact, one of the dogs in the pack is her own—Graham had brought her a puppy for her birthday one year and helped her train him.

It also helps that he is incredibly easy on the eyes. He has a smile that she can’t help but return, and Emma can admit to herself that she never quite got over her childhood crush on him. He never minded her hanging around, either, just as he seems to welcome her company now, following her lead in the conversation and answering questions whenever she has them.

Plus, Emma thinks she might be seeing Killian glance back at them routinely out of her periphery, and if that doesn’t just make her glow with victory she doesn’t know what would.

“To be honest, I doubt we’ll catch anything,” Graham is saying to her with a rueful smile.

Emma raises a brow. “Why is that?”

“Because every time Their Majesties have guests over, the hunting party is so large that every animal in the area is going to be running for cover. We can be heard from miles away, crashing through the woods like this. I guess it’s the company and the entertainment that they’re after anyway.”

Emma grins at him. “Even with the dogs?”

Graham sends her a matching grin. “The dogs will be the only ones successful this afternoon, I’m afraid. Apologies if you got your hopes up, Emma.”

She rolls her eyes fondly. “Yes, because I felt the need to prove my prowess by going out and catching a deer today. I think I’ll recover, but thank you for your concern.”

Her skin prickles, and Emma whips her head around to see that Killian has fallen back so that their horses are in step, so close to her that their legs brush with the sway of the horses’ gaits. He has a slight frown on his face when he says, “Might I have a word?”

“You may.”

He tenses, and then manages to get out between gritted teeth, a muscle jumping in his clenched jaw, “Privately.”

Graham sends her a questioning look, but she nods at him and he puts his heels to his horse’s flanks, trotting to catch up with the rest of the group. Emma pulls on her reins a bit, and soon they are far enough away from everyone else that the only things they can hear of the conversations being had are indistinct murmurs.

Now that they are alone, Killian seems in no hurry to say anything. Emma gives him a few minutes, but he stares straight ahead, and her frustration gets the better of her.

“Well? I thought you wanted to have a private conversation?”

“Perhaps I was simply eager to take you away from a man who was looking at you in a way completely inappropriate for a palace worker to look at a princess.”

His words are biting, and Emma is so immediately furious with him that she sees red for a moment. “Graham is anyone but a palace worker. Graham had as much of a hand in raising me as my parents did; Graham saved my mother’s life when she was a bandit living on her own in the Enchanted Forest. Graham has never upset me or made me feel uncomfortable or done anything that warrants that kind of talk and you will not speak of him that way again.”

Killian looks at her sharply, and she knows that he is going to ignore her command before he opens his mouth. “He was fawning over you.”

“He was not fawning over me! He was keeping me company—only a jealous little boy would misconstrue that, and you have no right to be jealous, lieutenant.”

She realizes what she has said only after she says it, but clamping her jaw shut will not take the words back, and Emma isn’t sure that she wants to. Her next words, however, are a little too scathing.

“Things will be much easier if we keep ourselves separate until you leave tomorrow.”

“And if I don’t want to keep apart?”

Emma’s laugh is bitter, the taste of it sour in her mouth. “Make up your mind, Killian. You can’t be with me and stay away from me at the same time—it doesn’t work that way.”

He blows out a frustrated huff of air. “Perhaps, if my brother wasn’t breathing down my bloody neck every waking hour… there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, and a dalliance with your princess is far beyond simply crossing a line.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“But if a siren comes to you with eyes begging you to take her, how can a man resist? You’re making it damned difficult, whether you’re kissing me in the garden or ignoring me entirely and flirting with another man.”

“Graham isn’t—“

“I know what you said!” Killian’s voice is raised, and Emma startles, pulling her horse up short when she realizes that his mount is no longer in step with hers. When she turns to look at him his eyes are blazing, mouth twisted, and Emma’s stomach flips nauseatingly.

“But I have to watch you touch him on the arm and laugh at every single thing he says like he’s the most humerous person you have ever encountered; what am I supposed to think? What would any man think?”

Emma wants to be excited because _this is exactly where she wants him, desperate and needy and clearly confused by what he feels, this is where it is easiest to persuade him to come to her_ but all she feels is sick.

“What in the gods’ names are you doing to me?”

The question is quiet, but she can hear the rough edges to it; it rings in her ears. The forest is suddenly too big and green, and the rest of their party has wandered far enough ahead that she can no longer hear where they might be. She nudges her horse’s nose around and comes up alongside him.

“I’ll take you back to the castle. We’ve lost the rest of them anyway.”

They canter back in the direction of the palace together, and the wind brings tears to Emma’s eyes.

;;

When they get back to the castle he follows her without a word. They walk the halls, Emma slightly in front of him, refusing to look back because she doesn’t want to see the expression that she knows is on his face. She can’t ignore the feeling of her ribs being squeezed tightly, however.

When they reach the guest quarters, just a few hallways from the royal suites, Emma grabs his hand, still afraid to look at his face. “Help me get out of my riding clothes? We weren’t supposed to be back for a while yet, and my maids won’t be in my rooms to do it.”

She turns to walk again and there is no resistance when she takes him with her. Every step toward her rooms feels like she is slogging through mud, and all she can think about is Killian’s callused palm underneath the pads of her fingers.

His hands work at her laces as she holds her hair over her shoulder for him, and the silence in the room is deafening. It’s as though a small bolt of lightning shocks her whenever his fingers brush against her skin as he loosens her top inch by inch. Emma bites her lip, twirls the ends of her hair around her fingers and allows the thrumming heat to build in her stomach.

The words come before she can stop them. “I’m sorry, you know. I do kind of mess with people to get away from the stress. But you already knew that.”

His lack of answer confirms it; the laces steadily keep coming undone.

“There are so many things that are so confining—and I love my people, I love my parents and my kingdom and I want to do right by them but sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe. I like to play with people’s expectations of me. It’s nice to show people that you aren’t exactly who they think you are.”

“Finished,” he tells her quietly. Emma doesn’t turn around because this is no longer her move, and she finds that she is terrified. Her heart is beating so loudly in her chest that she is sure he can hear it and she wants to wipe her sweaty palms on her breeches but doesn’t know how to do it without him seeing.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Princess Emma.”

He leaves, shutting her door with a soft click. It shouldn’t hurt (part of her expected it after the forest, really), but knowing that it _shouldn’t_ doesn’t change the fact that it _does_.

;;

Emma tries to keep herself busy until she is tired enough to fall asleep, but she can’t find anything that holds her attention for long and her thoughts keep straying to the way his breath felt on the back of her neck. Currently, she is curled up in a plush chair with a book—one of her favorites—but it is with a resignation that she realizes she hasn’t turned a page since opening it.

She snaps it closed in annoyance and stands, glancing around her room. There is a buzzing in her bones, whispers in her ears that say something like _rejected, abandoned, alone_. It makes her skin crawl, and there is a burning behind her eyes that she is failing at ignoring.

She recognizes the feeling as a whole; it is stress, but not of a kind she has felt before, not that she can remember. Usually when Emma feels like this, she finds the noble who has most recently joined court and giggles and bats her eyelashes until she has him wrapped around her little finger. But that is because of dress fittings, studies, fights with her parents—not because someone walked away from her without a backwards glance. Has anyone ever done that to her before?

Emma knows the answer to that.

There is a small shuffling noise on the other side of her door, and almost before Emma has time to wonder what is going on outside, her doors burst open and an out-of-uniform Killian stumbles in, jumping when they clang shut behind him.

He seems startled, as though he hadn’t actually expected to burst in the door without announcing himself. Emma stands, and there is a moment where neither of them speaks, or moves, and she is pretty sure that she doesn’t breathe.

Killian’s hand goes to the back of his neck and he glances downward, shuffling his feet a bit. Shy.

All of a sudden, Emma is enraged.

“What are you doing here?”

Her voice is harsh, spitting the words, and he flinches back from her, eyes snapping up to her face. She barrels on because if she pauses she won’t be angry anymore she’ll be something much worse and she can’t let him see her like that.

“You can’t just have some drinks or something and decide that you’ve changed your mind, because now _I’m_ done with _you_.”

“Emma—”

“No!” she turns her back to him and closes her eyes tightly. “Leave.”

“No.”

She sounds slightly hysterical when she answers, but she can’t seem to control her tone or pitch, and she finds herself whirling to face him once more. “Get out! Don’t make me call the guards.”

Something in him changes, and Killian strides across from room more quickly than Emma can blink. He has her face cupped in his hands and presses their foreheads together in the same breath. Emma freezes, arms stiff down by her sides, and screws her eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe you,” she chokes out. There is a lump in her throat that is making it difficult to speak and underneath everything else there is the hot flush of embarrassment because he shouldn’t be making her feel like this and he definitely shouldn’t be seeing her feeling like this.

“Look at me.” Killian tilts her chin up toward him, and damn her but Emma can’t help doing everything he says. She opens her eyes and is horrified to feel the tears beginning to sting.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks.

And then he’s kissing her.

It isn’t like the kisses she stole from him in the garden; Killian kisses her slowly, reverently, and Emma melts into his arms.

Her lips move against his gently, and when she gasps as he nips lightly with his teeth, he takes advantage of her open mouth to deepen the kiss, one of his hands moving to the back of her head and grasping her curls. He angles her head and sucks on her bottom lip, and Emma can feel her own moan reverberating deep in her chest.

She snakes her arms around his shoulders and pulls herself to him, chest to chest, fingers rumpling his shirt by clutching it too tightly. He sighs into her mouth and begins to walk her backwards, in the direction that her bed lies. Emma pulls back for a quick breath, takes in his wild eyes and kissed-red lips, and then he is ducking to graze his teeth along the column of her neck.

One of her hands finds its way to the hair at the nape of his neck and her fingers card their way through it. His hair is soft, feathery, long enough that she can tug and hear the answering groan rumble its way out of his mouth. Killian bites down at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and Emma gasps, eyes flying open in time to catch his smirk when he pushes her gently and she falls back onto the bed.

She is wearing the thin shift she changed into after peeling herself out of her riding clothes, and by the way he is raking his eyes over her, he can see every inch of her body. Emma beckons him forward with a smile and a skipping heartbeat; when he gets close enough she pulls his shirt over his head and runs her hands over his chest, down to the V of his hips. Killian crawls over her, leaning down to lick a path across her collarbone, hands at her waist and then skimming up to cup her breasts through the thin material.

Emma arches into his palms, the warmth of his hands fueling the flames beginning to build in her stomach. He brushes his thumbs over her nipples and then pinches one, causing Emma to yelp. His chuckle vibrates through her very being, and Emma digs her nails into the muscles of his back, scratching him. He shudders over her and in response opens his mouth over her other breast, laving the flat of his tongue against her nipple through the shift.

“Oh!” Emma keeps a hand on the back of his head to ensure that he doesn’t pull away. Killian’s free hand is drawing nonsensical patterns on her thigh, just below the hem of her nightgown, but he is moving too slowly for her liking, so she hitches her leg up and around his waist which pushes his hand down her inner thigh.

Killian grinds his hips into hers and Emma’s breathing speeds up; she can clearly feel him through his pants, and the friction is delicious. She circles her hips against him again and relishes in the way his hands tighten their grip on her body when she does. He growls against her and bites down hard this time on the skin of her chest before pressing another kiss, louder, more passionate, demanding, to her lips.

“Take this infernal thing off,” he grunts, sliding his hand up until it meets the wetness at the apex of her thighs. His fingers dance along her folds and Emma squirms beneath him, lifting her hips toward his touch and trying to take off her shift at the same time.

When she does manage to fling it to the floor, Killian is back on her in an instant, greedily taking in the sight of her bared before him. The heat in her cheeks spreads down to her chest and he grins, leaning down to kiss the curve of her breast.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, worrying a mark there with this teeth. He finally takes a nipple into his mouth with no barrier, and Emma hums appreciatively when he closes his teeth around the peak. Killian releases her breast and kisses his way across to the other one which he gives the same attention to.

His hand continues with the infuriatingly light touches against her clit, and Emma could cry with frustration because she feels like she is already being pulled tight, like her body has been waiting for days and she doesn’t know if she can wait any longer. Killian smirks against her skin and licks a stripe down her stomach, dropping to his knees in front of her.

Emma raises herself up on her elbows to watch as he spreads her thighs wider, parting his lips and gazing hungrily at the wetness practically seeping from her core. Her hips are moving in restless little circles already until he grabs them and holds them still. She drops onto her back again when he leans forward and blows a cool stream of air against her clit, a slow shiver licking its way up her spine.

With just the tip of his tongue he swipes through her folds, and Emma’s hands grip the sheets because she needs some way to stay grounded. Killian’s scruff scrapes her thigh when he turns his head to kiss the silky skin there and says, “Gods Emma, you taste so…”

He presses the flat of his tongue against her again, dragging it more leisurely, and Emma moans, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He takes her clit into his mouth and sucks, and that has her back bowing up, the feeling enveloping her from head to toe. His hands rub soothing circles on her hipbones while he kisses downwards and fucks his tongue into her without preamble.

Sounds are leaving Emma’s mouth constantly now, because he knows exactly what to do and how to do it in a way that leaves her breathless, staring at the ceiling and feeling her orgasm approach rapidly from his deliberate strokes. Her muscles tighten and the coil in her stomach winds tighter, and Killian moves back to her clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it rapidly and plunging two fingers inside of her at the same time.

“Fuck!” Emma cries out, her hands flying to his hair and pushing him in closer to her. His free hand urges her legs up over his shoulders and he crooks his fingers inside of her so that he is dragging across the spot that makes her see stars.

Killian increases the pace of his fingers and breathes out hotly onto her sensitive flesh, causing Emma to whimper and tug at the roots of his hair. She is impossibly wet and already starting to flutter around his fingers, so when he nips at the skin of her navel and swirls his tongue in circles around her clit before taking it into his mouth and grazing her with his teeth, she comes hard.

He is still kissing her when she floats down, panting hard and riding out the aftershocks around his fingers. Emma drops her legs from his shoulders and he stands, lips and chin glistening with her release. There is a swooping sensation in her belly and Emma crushes his lips to hers again, hands reaching down to the laces of his pants and hurriedly undoing them.

Killian laughs, the sound full of flame and promise. “Eager, are we?”

“Yes,” Emma nibbles at the shell of his ear, and Killian pushes her hands out of the way so that he can pull his pants off himself and then she can finally feel him completely, skin against skin, and it’s heavenly.

“Gods,” he moans when she strokes him firmly once, twice, her thumb swiping over the head of his cock, and then brings the digit up to her mouth to taste. He rubs himself against her and they both shudder, her slickness coating him and gods but she wants him in her now, no more teasing.

He seems to be in agreement, because with one more solid movement he positions himself at her entrance and thrusts forward experimentally.

Killian sinks into her with ease, and Emma finds herself clinging to him while he continues to push, biting out words of encouragement because he feels so good, Killian please, fuck, Kililan!

When he hits bottom he waits one breath before pulling out and thrusting back in again forcefully. Emma’s entire body bounces with the strength behind it, and her hands scramble to find something to hold onto, finally gripping his biceps and digging her nails in while moans.

He is stretching her perfectly, every movement sparking white hot desire in her veins. Killian supports himself on his forearms and kisses her cheeks, her forehead, nips at her jaw, sucks a bruise onto her neck and always, inevitably, is drawn back to her lips.

Emma meets his movements as best she can with his body pinning her down, thighs trembling with the effort, keening when they find a rhythm and his thrust hits her just right. He nuzzles into her hair and breathes deep while she gasps out his name.

“I would be content to have you like this forever, Emma.”

His words ring true, and through the haze of her pleasure-filled mind something inside of her protests. But his thrusts pick up speed and now it’s all she can do not to scream because it feels like he is breaking her down and building her up all at once. Killian leans up, hitching her hips at an angle with his right arm so he can hit her deeper, more fully, and his left darts down to put pressure on her clit, watching her face as he does.

Emma’s head thrashes from side to side and she moves her hands up to cup her breasts, the pinching and kneading motions just adding to the boiling in her core. His strokes are long and there is sweat on both of their bodies now, enough that her legs slip against his hips when she tries to wrap them around him.

“I want to see you come again,”

Emma throws her head back and writhes, because she is so fucking close and he circles tighter with his thumb around her clit, pulls her hips down against him every time he thrusts in. He leans down over her and tugs on her earlobe, whispers, “Emma, love,” in the most tender voice imaginable, and she comes.

The wave crashes over her and sends her flying while he keeps moving inside of her, letting her ride out her orgasm. Her throat feels raw, like she has been shouting, and her limbs are shaking but still he doesn’t stop, kisses her neck and fucks her harder until he can’t anymore, until he is stiffening and hissing his own release.

When they fall asleep, having somehow made it underneath the covers, they are holding hands. Emma is too sated to try and decipher to the emotion that sight envokes in her, so she closes her eyes and sinks into dreamlessness instead.

;;

She wakes up in the early hours of the morning with the stars still out, but birds are beginning to sing outside her open windows. She stretches languidly and blinks a few times to clear her bleary eyes. Killian’s back is to her, rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, and Emma smiles.

Because he’s here, asleep. In her bed. Sleeping in her bed, next to her, like that’s something normal she does, and he does, like they’ve done it a thousand times before.

The terror from the evening before rears its ugly head again and her breath hiccups.

“What?” Killian grunts, rolling over to face her. His hair is in beautiful disarray, muscles in his chest and arms rippling as he moves, and Emma feels a spark of desire flare up next to the fear. It’s an odd combination.

“Nothing,” she tries to evade with a brilliant smile. “Did I wake you up?”

“I was dozing,” he tells her, shuffling closer so that he can rub his nose alongside hers. It’s adorable, and she kind of loves it. Oh gods. “Now what is it that has you worrying?”

“How do you know something is worrying me?”

“Your breathing changed.”

Emma snorts because that’s ridiculous, but Killian brings her hands up between them and kisses her knuckles, and it’s so tender that she wants to lean forward and kiss him. So she does.

He tastes of sleep and spice, and Emma doesn’t think she will ever tire of it. Her eyes are still closed when she whispers, “I think I may like you.”

“I’d hope so, we spent a rather intimate night together.”

Damn him, but that actually makes her laugh, and she opens her eyes. “That’s not what I meant! You got me to open up.” She whacks him on the shoulder. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

Killian winces, but it doesn’t wipe the smirk off his face. “If you haven’t noticed, princess, I do quite a few things that I’m ‘not supposed to do’.” One of his hands finds its way between them and rests on her hip. She shivers, his touch bringing fresh memories to the surface. He stills and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Including adoring a princess.”

Emma thinks she may be grinning like an idiot, but can’t find it in herself to care, not when he sends her a goofy smile in return and pulls her body to his.

“I don’t think we can keep this a secret from your brother,” Emma tells him, watching his hand creep down her body. “Or my parents,” she adds as an afterthought.

“They already thought we’d snuck off for some afternoon delight, love,” he drawls, tracing small circles slowly down her thigh. “I would have assumed that if two members of a hunting party disappeared hours before we were supposed to begin heading back.”

They lay together in contented silence as daybreak starts to filter through the room. The birds are a cacophony now, and Emma can almost pretend she is lying here as just a girl, with just a boy by her side. But the later it gets, the more real life nudges its way into her mind, and eventually she sighs.

“My maids will be here soon to help me bathe and dress for the day.”

“I’d rather do that myself, if I may be so bold.”

“I’m serious, they can’t find you here. They’ll freak out.”

Killian doesn’t move. “I’m leaving after breakfast today.”

“I know.”

“We will be gone for months. Your parents have given my brother quite the list of objectives, and it involves us sailing from kingdom to kingdom with decrees and treaties, amongst other things. You know how long those can take to settle.”

“I know. Killian,” Emma places a finger against his lips. “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

“The prince and princess may not be so willing to allow a lieutenant from the navy to court you.”

Emma’s mind flashes to the knowing looks Snow kept giving her, and she shrugs. “Somehow I don’t think that will be as much of a problem as you assume. Besides, while you work on charming my parents, I still have to win Captain Liam Jones over.”

Killian laughs and sits up, raking his hands through his hair, tousling it even further. “Liam is a wanker and he can learn to deal with it.” The fondness in his voice makes Emma’s heart swell.

She watches from beneath the covers as he picks up his clothes from the floor, slipping into them with a little bit of a struggle. Once dressed, he comes back and moves her hair off of her forehead so that he can press a gentle kiss there. “See you at breakfast, princess.”

“Can’t wait, lieutenant.”


End file.
